


Rouge

by erikwhxxt



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber RPF
Genre: 1950s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Anal Sex, Christine being a sexy bitch, Creampie, Erik being a sugar daddy, F/M, Fetish, Foot Fetish, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Strangers to Lovers, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikwhxxt/pseuds/erikwhxxt
Summary: The Paris ballet was a strange home for gossip, whoever it is, look them in the eye and you will realize that they know everything, the ushers are very talkative and that is very dangerous, doing something that could be misinterpreted in front of them would be playing with fire, however, they were much worse than ballet rats as they were everywhere.Her favorite gossip kept Christine Daaé on everyone's lips - even the Charles Garnier memorial statue itself seemed to be up to date!Where Christine is the mistress of Count Destler. The 50's are the favorites.Note: yes, it is the first time that I do something sexy in a long time; basically this story will be based on sex and the development of the relationship of both with the consequences of being lovers as patron and protector. See you.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Christine had recently accidentally overheard a conversation between two dancers who barely made them known, she didn't remember their names but that wasn't really important compared to what she heard.

—And… do you know who it is?—asked an unfamiliar voice.

—I do n't know, I mean, I have some suspicions but nothing for sure— answered the opposite voice.

—Maybe...?

—Of course whoever you think will not be, now I doubt the count is interested even on second thought.

Shortly after they were talking but already far from the range of his hearing. Christine didn't really think much of that conversation, until she felt that this might be wrong for her, as she was in not very morally acceptable relationships for a woman of her position.

Soon rehearsals finished final of the "Il Muto", Christine had gotten predictably the role of a dancer from the generic meadows, his costume was beautiful although his appearance was until the second act, and she was satisfied with his minimum contribution.

While he was playing she wondered if the count would be present in his box, she could not direct his gaze to where box 5 was so the rest of the night he found himself trying to solve the mess that was in his mind, he even presented in the corridor of the boxes? 

After the applause and the roses scattered on the Garnier stage, Christine tried to cross the sea of people who were going to congratulate the primadonna. 

Christine barely got anywhere near her dressing room when her own admirers consisting of the theater staff and people who happened to approached on that gala night accosted her uncontrollably amid flattery and gorgeous flower arrangements, but she quickly got rid of them by slamming the door behind her, trying to control that crowd of men who were more excited by his legs than his talent. 

Of course, Christine had to unnecessarily have her own dressing room, it was small but at least she could have her own space and perhaps the only thing she had to share with the rest of the ballet rats was the maid who was always somehow ready for Christine. 

She called the maid who began to remove the ribbons and the tight dress of the meadow woman, meanwhile in his mind lay why the count had not attended to see her, he knew that perhaps he was still annoyed because Christine was standing firm in stay out of the public spotlight, they had fought but everything had been resolved with a diamond necklace and a nervous apology, but it couldn't be that, that pointless discussion had remained in the past, what reason would his< have had for not attending to the opera in his box?

The maid finished with her and left after Christine wrapped herself in her yellow silk robe, she had a ribbon that she tightened tightly around her waist so as not to let anyone see who ventured to see Christine so comfortably, not even the count it would be his punishment for not having attended to see her.

After some time playing with her floral gifts and with the screams of the fans diminishing, Christine was about to leave until she noticed a little letter, so tiny that it could hardly be noticed. He said:

"I'm afraid I must steal some of her precious time, I urgently need to see her I will meet in my car, no one will say anything if she is with me"

He was beginning to hate the count more strongly. They are not supposed to see each other openly due to the nature of their relationship. Christine was the mistress of Count Erik Destler; they saw each other every day in the count's apartment where only the two of them knew what was happening.

Very often they ended up under the covers every time they saw each other, Christine was extremely delighted with her protector, despite the fact that the man wore a mask (God knows what will be under it, Christine would never dare even to mention it in her presence) it seemed delighted to open up to Christine, especially when she spoke sweetly into his ear.

Christine without further ado undressed like a Venus and dressed in her navy blue beaded dress that Erik had given her months ago after walking through Bois in the middle of the night. High heels resolved her short stature, she put on a pair of sapphire earrings and a large plush white jacket made of the finest fabric that complemented her outfit with her loose curls.

She know that she had to stay in strategic places as soon as she saw a soul in the desolate corridors of the opera, it was quite late and Christine herself had to be at home for those hours, instead she was upset going to a man who was not afraid of her to public scrutiny that would primarily affect her. 

When he reached a well-known back door, the freezing cold of the end of the season hit his face gently, in front of the stone stairs lay the well-known cart that the count frequented for his outings, there were still many people out on the streets, but nobody seemed to take that particular route. Christine walked over to the polished wagon and took it out on the door where her destiny lay.

—You're late.

—Did we have a scheduled time?

Erik growled under his breath, the man looking frustrated.

\- Why didn't you come?

—Was occupied.

—With what?

—Damn woman! What the hell do you want?—the count was easily irascible, he could go mad one moment without touching a single hair, and the next he might find himself lovingly asking her to join him for dinner at some expensive restaurant.

Christine had a certain special affection for her lover, sex was always good and gifts were also good, but she had to admit that they had found themselves quite often in front of the dressing table of her ramshackle dressing room her brown curls for her visits. 

As count Erik ranted about how busy he was and her insensitivity, Christine drew back her jacket feeling less cold now inside the car. The dress she was wearing accentuated her breasts, tightening them up a little too personal for her liking, but she found her thighs clenched when the man fixed his gaze on her breasts. The count coughed lightly into his hand. 

—I don't know what I was thinking when I bought it ...—he sighed, Christine smiled.

—Perhaps proving your point.

—And what exactly would it be, my beautiful Christine?—when she least realized it, the count was stroking her leg up and down, in a rather personal touch.

—That we have to get out of here before we attract glances.

—Certainly—Erik said something to the driver that made the car go to the apartment at the top of the Parisian building that belonged to him.

When allowed to get out of the car, the count guided her through the familiar marble corridors as if she were someone from royalty.  
They reached the apartment at the top; Erik seemed more composed and did not aim to erupt in anger at her. When he took the step she observed that the carpeted floor of the place was a mess of sheet music.

—Erik is not lying, beautiful Christine—he said in her ear, planting a quick kiss on the side of her head. Count Destler hastened to keep the place in order with the lyrics of his opera, Christine left her sack on the coat rack still side to accompany Erik in his task. After picking up some yellowed leaves and leaving them on a place where Erik had left the others, the count invited her to sit on his lap to drink wine after seeing her so lonely arranging her things. 

When Erik handed her his glass and pulled it onto his lap, Christine felt enormously warm against her lover's cold skin.

—You didn't have to help your Erik, Christine—then she took a sip from her glass, Christine did the same before answering.

—Now that you compose, dear?

—A duet, nothing more, it's really not important Christine.

—It must be—she answered after receiving a look; Christine sipped more until she left a little less than half her glass. Erik said then. 

—I'm lying to you, I planned to include it in Don Juan but I'm thinking of eliminating it—he sighed.

Christine peered down at Erik from high on her lap. He had been writing an opera before he met it, he told her that he had been trying for years to leave it incomplete, he could not understand why, but he never said anything that alluded to that strange situation.

—I notice you distracted Christine—the man below forced her to look into his eyes, his imposing face covered by the mask was an obstacle to fully see that man, but he could not simply ask. Erik continued at the lack of response from his lover. —You didn't answer anything about my confession and you seem somewhat distracted, do you want to go home? I can take—

—I'm fine—he replied before he finished, she continued to play with the glass with the liquid. —I'm just a little thoughtful today.

—I see—he replied simply taking a drink again, he finished his glass.

Christine suddenly came to mind the memory of what she had heard from the dancers, her mind relaxed, she asked Erik without thinking about the consequences.

—Erik, did you mention someone about me?

The man below her tensed and it was his turn to look into her eyes; he seemed hesitant to answer but still did.

—More specifically? 

—Our relationship, the nature of it—he replied. The count below her swallowed hard and then questioned him.

—Christine, I don't.

—Maybe you don't have much to lose but I do—he replied with an annoyed voice waiting for his reaction, but the count's face was indefinite, he couldn't easily tell what was in his expression. Christine then continued. —A who you tell?

—Nobody my dear, not a soul knows about this—I try to kiss her on the neck but she pulled away.

—I still wished knew how anyone could be interested in it.

—Are they bothering you?—his tone abruptly changed at his mood.

—Not directly—she bit her lip thoughtfully. Shortly after he said. —But people have started talking.

—Christine, you don't have to worry, I'll take care of it tomorrow—he allowed a kiss on her shoulder in an affectionate way. The count then addressed her. —Come with me to sleep.

—Sleep?

—Just that—Christine accepted and Erik led her by the hand to her room, it was a fairly large room, a double bed in the center. He gives her a familiar nightgown and leaves her alone in the room to give her the privacy of changing, Christine does it in a jiffy, she only has on the nightgown, her sapphires and the rest were on the floor perfectly folded so that they do not get lost. 

She allowed the count to pass and while she back was turned, he allowed himself to put on his nightwear, she turned around and Erik pointed to a spot next to her on the bed, Christine crawled into the sheets with him.

They truly slept, sometimes this was the count's request and Christine could not refuse, her cold body was good at her side, neither could she refuse to leave this poor man alone in his bed. She would return to her apartment on Rue d'Antin in the afternoon the next day, it shouldn't be too much trouble for her.

She fell asleep without thinking of anything else.

The next morning she found her sex between her painfully wet thigh.

As soon as she opened her eyes she rubbed the bundle of nerves between her legs, the moisture seeping through her underwear that must have been wet, she barely glanced up and count Destler was on her.

The man groaned. —My God dear, how long have you been waiting for me?

She couldn't articulate a word as the count slipped a pair of his long fingers inside her, began to move them against her walls at a luscious rhythm that made Christine moan, throwing her head back.

—You haven't answered my question, my beautiful Christine—Erik planted a kiss on her clavicle exposed by the pulling, he could barely answer her articulating.

—I just woke up.

He made a noise of satisfaction still moving his fingers inside her. —Did you dream something dirty to be so wet my dear?

—Please Erik—she groaned.

—What does my beautiful Christine want? 

—Just ... Please, I need you inside me.

It didn't take anything else for the count to destroyed her panties and throw them on the floor, her sex without any hair lay in her hungry gaze, it was a habit of the dancers to keep that area clean of hair due to the tight costumes in that place.

The count lowered his head to her pussy, began to treat her clitoris carefully between his teeth to move on to the bites and later, his mouth was on her vagina, his tongue was delicious and Christine could tell, more than once she rammed against his face, stroking his black hair between her fingers and sometimes lovingly tugging at her hair when Erik did something especially delicious with his tongue. Soon the count was on her again stroking his member outside.

He was surrounded by a bit of black hair, a clump that made him imposing, the count's cock was thick and slightly long, it was angry red. The pre-seminal fluid leaking from the tip.

—My God, I want to bury myself in your wet pussy Christine—he whispered under his breath, Christine could hear him and his melodious voice just did something to her, the sweet tingle of temptation and pleasure taking over her body. While Erik put on the latex protection, she spread her legs to allow him to look without a hint of puritanism at her wet and furious pussy, she felt herself burning.

The count brought his cock up to her pussy and buried himself to the hilt, took Christine's legs over his arms and began thrusting just barely letting her get used to his cock inside her.

Christine moaned and stirred without being able to come to herself , only the thrusts inside her, reaching the depths of her interior seemed to make her feel in heaven, the name of the count kept escaping between moans and screams of the most pure pleasure. Soon the union between their bodies began to make an obscene noise from skin to skin contact, it was intoxicating.

As soon as she noticed that the count was fully dressed and with the mask on that did not allow her to see absolutely nothing of the never seen part of his face, she tried to bring his hands to his face but quickly pushed them away in a brusque touch that he tried to compensate with a series With kisses around her neck. Reaching her covered chest, he violently pulled her nightgown over her head, leaving her completely naked and soon attacked her breasts.

Her nipples were erect upwards, she sucked one of them like a nursing baby while the other was twisted and pinched mercilessly and she believed that she would end up bleeding but she could only feel discharges of pleasure in the unkind touches of her lover.

When Erik's cock found a place in her, he ended up coming between moans and gasps, the count continued until he found his own release between moans of pleasure from Christine's recent orgasm.

He lay down next to her and removed the used latex. Her breaths were rough and Christine was slow to process so much in her head, but she managed to rest her head on her chest, Erik began to stroke her hair sweetly when Christine realized something.

—What time is it?—she asked his lover.

—Twelve noon—he replied in his usually calm, peaceful tone of voice.

—I must go—she said with a tired voice, she wanted to stay on him without thinking about anything and just enjoy the soft touch on his hair but she had to go home.

—You can stay a little longer, it's not time to go yet for Christine—as she said this she turned away from him and got out of bed like a totally naked nymph, picked up her clothes and began to dress. —Erik will help dress my beautiful Christine."

—Please—he approached and began to fasten her beaded dress at the back, she had nothing underneath, her panties were destroyed and in that dress there was no room for a bodice, even with that, there was no problem with her comfort and soon she found the clingy dress back in place. The count asked her if he could allow him to put her shoes on and she agreed, sat on the bed and he put her shoes in their place. Sapphires were her problem and she was soon ready to go.

—I suppose you owe me a breakfast now—he said when she took his coat back, the afternoon was not so cold but out of discretion he had to put it on top. She turned to Erik after her sentencing.

—I guess that's fair, I would have stayed longer for a second time but I'm afraid I have to go back to my apartment to put things in order and then go to the afternoon rehearsal.

—If my dear Christine has pending then you must hurry—Erik only had to take his ugly chair and they both left the apartment, went down the elevator to the main floor of the hotel and despite being a place only for lodging, the count kept a residence standing up high. 

They both went out to meet the car in broad daylight, only the doorman noticed them and gave them a greeting with his hat, Christine made a respectful nod but the count hardly noticed. They both quickly entered the car so as not to be seen, both attracted too much attention.

Erik gave the chauffeur directions and they set off for Rue d'Antin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: yes, it is the first time that I do something sexy in a long time, basically this story will be based on sex and the development of the relationship of both with the consequences of being lovers as patron and protector. See you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Too long a chapter (almost 5,000 words wft ), delusions of cannibalism , sex mix with Opera (?

—I saw that young woman, she…—she paused. —Christine, welcome! Madame Valerius is waiting for you.

The nurse Christine's mother had been paying for three months ago greeted the latter promptly as soon as she walked through the door of the small apartment in the last building on the left on Rue d’Antin. The lady returned to the laundry room with the rest of the servants who tended or washed the clothes of their masters. While she was laying out some sheets she continued commenting.

—Speaking of her just arrived.

—What about her, Mrs. Dashwood?—a young Caucasian woman asked intrigued, the nurse could no longer contain everything she had been observing for a while.

—You see...

While talking about topics that should not be of interest to her at all, Christine heard only a few words that were explicit but she had to clench her fists and close her mouth, otherwise it was likely that she will bring out the personal defense skills that her father had taught her years behind.

Christine was living with Mrs. Valerius shortly after she graduated from the Conservatory of Music which she had incidentally entered thanks to Mr. Valerius. The reason why she lived with that crippled woman was because her late father who had been a musician in life had dragged her from Sweden in his rickety car through almost all of eastern Europe, after years of advancing her father agreed to they needed a well-deserved rest, they had been non-stop since the death of their mother and at that moment they were on the verge of collapse so they stopped in Perros-Guirec, in France.

His father was not a fan of the country of love but after that Christine begged endlessly they were to the sea, so that after crossing almost the entire the whole country they came to Perros without any difficulty but when they came to a small inn, Christine fell ill an apparent flu that got worse.

Her father was on the verge of despair, Christine was delirious and both he and the town doctor feared the worst, he was even suggesting to her father that he get a priest to perform a proper Christian baptism and burial, she and her father don’t religious but Gustave Daaé feared that his daughter could never have an eternal rest with his beloved wife.

One morning she appeared in her room with a kind man who attended her, between dreams she barely heard her father tell her that he was a well-versed doctor in his area, much better than the one in town and that he would do everything possible for her to recover, Christine did, little by little she began to overcome her illness and both her father and she cried with happiness.

That doctor friendly was monsieur Valerius, was passing through the village after having gone to a job in a nearby town days ago and now back home with his wife, a few kilometers further ahead was his house but had had to stop during one night to continue on his way the next day, that was until he found his father desperate and on the verge of tears asking for a doctor the next morning, then he went and found Christine in her deplorable state.

Fortunately, there was a remedy, now Christine was just as healthy as before and then Mr. Valerius invited them to stop by his house.

When they arrived at a nice house by the sea, Christine and her father met Mrs. Valerius, a kind woman who had no children and began to treat Christine like one, her father helped in whatever way he could at home and they appreciated it very much, but their father never accepted the rewards they offered him, he told them that he did it for the kindness of giving them a roof, they had never slept so warmly. However, their time in that place was coming to an end and when they were about to say goodbye to that warm place, the married couple did not let them go and they did, they lasted until their father died.

Then she was left in the care of the gentlemen, but bad luck refused to leave her, since the kind man who had saved her life, after helping her to enter the music conservatory in Paris died leaving the widow and already crippled Mrs. Valerius alone with Christine.

—Christine?—the worn breast Valerius voice called from his room.

Luckily there was a ray of hope at the end of the tunnel and she managed to enter the ballet academy of the Opera Garnier, although she did not sing as her father and Mr. Valerius had desired, she had the pleasant position of a dancer. They sold the house in Perros-Guirec and quickly moved to Paris; with the money they were able to settle in a small apartment at the end of Rue d'Antin where they both had each other.

—I'm here mama—Christine sat next to the bed where mom Valerius was, the poor lady could hardly look at her, but she smiled at her.

—My dear, where have you been all this time? I almost forced Mrs. Dashwood to come looking for you in the middle of the night—she scolded her to which Christine simply replied.—I was with Meg, mom—Christine lied taking the mama Valerius hand.

After a year of being installed as a Ballet rat in the care of Madame Giry ( her second mother who had helped Christine in whatever way was possible ) , she began to have small contributions in some programs and during a November, she had an unexpected visitor coming out the back door of the actors and theater staff, she had really been scared when a dark and imposing figure had stood in front of her, the unknown figure had a wide-brimmed hat and could barely dazzle her face was noticeably tense.

"—¿Miss Daaé?—”, the shadow spoke with a deep timbre of voice, discovering that it was a man. Christine thought that perhaps it was some worker who had forgotten to tell her something about the next day's rehearsal or even one of her fellow dancers to give her his red scarf, but it was not any of the above options, the one who was located in front she was a complete stranger who caught her just as she left. He knew her name. "—Miss Daaé, a few words."

Christine didn't answer anything and the man in front of her seemed to take it as a positive response.

"—Mademoiselle Daaé has a wonderful technique, but every time I have seen her, her support on her own feet has decreased, I have seen her standing longer than usual. Is something abnormal happening with her health?"

"—I ... monsieur—", Christine had not the slightest idea of what to answer; there was not a person on earth who would care about her. As she did not respond, he seemed uneasy and handed her a paper in her hands.

"—I am not doctor mademoiselle, but ...—", seemed to suddenly get nervous but Christine still did not answer, just his mind was locked but the man continued even without his response. "—I think he has some kind of injury, here—", I point to the paper in his hands. "—I have named a remedy, it is something herbal, you can even do it yourself, of course it is not that I say that you are poor and cannot buy a medicine, it is not that I want to be rude, I ... I'm sorry, I think I shouldn't have done this in the first place—”, he whispered more to himself, these last words somehow made Christine react.

"—O-Okay, thanks for your concern, I really appreciate it, did not have to—", Christine responded to such attention from the man hiding in the shadows.

"—Oh—", he barely replied, since he couldn't see her face she didn't really know how he had reacted. Then the man finally said. "—Then, have a good night miss Daaé."

So he left, that night he returned home and immediately began to prepare the remedy, he had everything at home so for a moment he thought he was a stalker but he simply discarded the idea. Surprisingly, he had improved from his minor ankle injury.

She began to see that mysterious man every night when she went out the back door, she asked about her ankle and there were times she praised her for a long time, during those times Christine did not stay static without saying anything but she was still careful in that aspect, he said a few words that seemed to be enough for the man who was hiding, he had never mentioned his appearance, or the reason why he was hiding but he could not talk about it so openly.

—It's good that Mrs. Giry has received you, how are the Girys?—mama Valerius asked to which Christine replied.

—They are fine, nothing new really—after that short answer, she made sure that she will be fine, the nurse had already given her medicines according to what she told her (mom Valerius was still quite sane), it was early for the rehearsal even so he allowed himself to have a quick breakfast and when he finished he went to his room to rest.

When Christine lay back on her bed, she remembered that snowfall where she could then look him.

One night he had had to cancel the program due to heavy snowfall in November, La Carlotta had been ranting that he wanted still will be paid at night even though there had not done more to rehearse 'Faust' but still well received payment by from the directors almost under pressure from her and her husband, Piangi, more than anything, but that at least gave Christine's ears a rest and perhaps the rest of the world. When everyone could go home, Christine went into crisis when she saw how everything was full of snow, she was perhaps the only one who would walk away since most of the dancers lived in the bedrooms, would go to meet soon to Valerius, something could happen because of the snow for her house was not protected for it.

Christine was at the back door for personnel as she usually did when she was leaving, she pressed her jacket to her and lowered her hat to cover her ears, she was about to take a step when a car stopped in front of her and a car emerged. A tall, slight thin man with a wide - brimmed hat, his back was only showing his eyes, his large black coat and the back of his black hair, when he turned to her he found a pair of blue eyes, although barely It was visible because the hat hid a large part of his face, he had a mask in the middle of his face, it was white just like his skin, it could almost be confused in his eyes if it weren't for Christine's critical gaze. It was him; it was enough for her to see him to know.

"—You are ...—", she said, still surprised to see him for the first time.

"—Good day mademoiselle Daaé—", he made a small movement with his hat as a greeting, Christine did not respond as she remained intact in her place, then he continued with a light smoke for each word. "—Where do plan to go with this storm? I 'm afraid it won't be able to advance much."

So Christine had nowhere to go, but it didn't matter much compared to discovering that the shadow that used to speak to her had a face, that voice really existed as something else.

Completely ignoring the mask, the man looked older than her but couldn't say for sure what his age might be, for some reason he didn't seem to have one. He was tall, no much, but if don't see every day, he also seemed to have consistent musculature, he was a bit thin but around his shoulders and his torso was robust, his legs were long. As for his clothes, the great coat reached a little below the knees and after that his dress pants could be seen along with a pair of polished patent leather shoes, as for the top part he had a scarf as well black that protruded from the collar of his white shirt. Christine may have been stunned to see a full-fledged human being.

“—Why… What are you doing here? The program has been canceled...—”, Christine said with her voice in a thread. The masked man replied.

"—I had not found out until I arrived and someone notified me, I was about to go home when I saw that was leaving and then I approached, I did not want to miss our daily conversation."

"—How?—”, was just a word but he seemed to understand what he meant. The count sighed and the warm smoke of winter emanated from him.

" —I have been a fervent spectator of the opera for more than five years, I had recently noticed a new dancer in the corps de ballet, she, demonstrated good skills that are polished every day, look as if she were a flower that was blooming every day, I wanted to get closer and show the gratitude I felt but my zero social skills prevented me from doing so, so I discovered that her name was Christine Daaé after observing that they have finally deigned to include her name in the program...—", he paused a little. "—In a presentation I noticed that something happened with her ankle, made grimaces of pain barely perceptible to the public, so I waited for her to leave to at least address her for something minimal."

"—I see—", answered Christine smiling, the man in front of her just looked at her; they didn't say anything for some time until she decided to speak. "—If that's the case, I'm Christine Daaé".

"—I am the count Erik Destler, mademoiselle—", Christine was really surprised; she had been talking every night with an earl.

"—Nice to meet you, count Destler."

"—The pleasure is mine, miss Daaé—", then he began, they really knew each other formally at that time. That day he offered to take her home but she refused and she assure her that he would wait for the storm to stop, he left after saying goodbye with a bow and him lost in the snow in his car, Christine went home After two hours and luckily everything was in order, Mom Valerius had only worried about her safety but she was unharmed, she was able to say goodbye to her and lay her down in her bed and then she sleep peacefully in her bed.  
The following weeks did not stop between rehearsals and programs, every night when she left she saw the count waiting for her now under the light that was under their heads, they spoke very little , their topics of conversation were based on the program and after that they only they were silent for long periods of time , there was no room to talk about themselves and their lives, although it was not something that really interested them in the other, both needed a company, no matter how minimal. Christine had the suspicions that this man despite his position in high society did not have much conversation perhaps due to the subject of his mask, no one would give much confidence to a man who was hiding behind one, Christine somehow was also uncomfortable concerning her but eventually, The mask was forgotten in some corner of his mind..

“—Were you in a conservatory? Do you play?—”, he asked when the subject came to light, Christine played with a stone at his feet.

“—I sing, but I don't really—”, she replied without looking directly at his face.

“—And… Wouldn't you like to do it?—”, that's where the conversation ended.

That topic was the one she always avoided but she was not the only one between the two who refused to delve much into it.

"—Count, your mask...?—”, Christine asked one day as they were sitting on the sidewalk next to the back door that she frequented, while they looked at the beautiful city in which they resided, the city that never slept.

“—Christine, do you think it will snow soon?—", he quest dryly, Christine wanted to continue so as not to let their conversation die that had been pleasant before.

"—Maybe…"

. . .

The precursor of what happened more ahead was again a snowfall, but is at the end of the season.

It had presented Hannibal, she had played the slave number 5, a recurring joke from Meg Giry (the same daughter of Madame Giry) and it during rehearsals, both parted following were allowed to go to them, then, when Christine He went out through the familiar rear exit and noticed that the snowflakes were falling slowly.

The count was found after a few minutes but instead of finding him in his usual coat, his wide-brimmed hat and his usual white porcelain mask, he was in a neat black suit, with a top hat and a fur mask. That simulated the other part of his face; he even had perfectly drawn features.

"—I'm sorry for the delay, madame Catherine kept me trapped in the corridor of the boxes, she had never noticed me until now and wanted to meet me—", he apologized but Christine did not listen much, the count looked very ... normal, like any man who came out from the Garnier opera house with his wife on one arm.

He didn't even know if he had a wife, he had never thought about it despite the fact that they were getting very intimate so that he could have a wife.

"— It's okay, I haven't been here long time—", he replied with a lost look on his face, the count was a very elegant man, he had a serene expression and voice all the time, so peaceful that when he spoke it felt like a song cradle.

“—It's snowing a lot… Christine, are you going to leave now?—”, he asked to which Christine responded negatively, but perhaps that had worried the count since he said the following. "—May I take her home, Christine?"

Christine thought about it seriously, she had never accepted any of his offers to take her in her car, but that day it did not seem like a bad idea, although she did not want to anger his wife, who will misunderstand it would all be too much, Mom Valerius could see them through the window, that would also be very bad or...

"—Christine, ¿you are okay?"

“—Won't your wife be upset because I with you?—”, the count smiled sadly as he willingly forced her with his hands on either side of her face to look him directly in the eye , the moon making a good contrast against his pale face as snow itself. He told her almost in a whisper.

"—Christine, I 'm sorry you worried about that but I don't have a wife.”

"—Oh—", he managed to answer in a very low whisper, even with his gloved hands on his face, they kept looking at each other. It was so cold, her body warmed with just that contact, she wanted to bring her face close enough so that her warm breath hit her face gently. He was so good to her, maybe...

“—Shall we go then?—”, he asked after abruptly parting, Christine was a mess of blush and warmth, the count must have ignored on his own the state in which Christine was at that moment. She managed to answer with a nod that was enough, he took her to the car that was waiting at the side of the opera building, helped her up holding her hand and then went to her side, of course he had a driver so she told him the street and the name of the building and soon they were on their way to Rue d’Antin.

When they arrived, him helped her down and realized to looking at the sky snowed much stronger, a flake fell directly into his nose at what river and Count strangely equally river beside her, her laughter was like a gentle caress to the warmth that flooded her.

After the some time to look at the sky, he turned to look at the count who already had been directing his gaze in his eyes there was something that could explain.

He did not know at what moment too close, but could remember exactly the moment his lips barely touched and sank into a kiss, had been ravishing, too, too much for her lips Count were cold and it was delicious the feeling, fortunately it was too late for anyone to see them in their snatch. She hugged him tightly while their lips were still together.

When they parted, the earl simply said goodbye to her with a slight smile. She went upstairs to her apartment to find that the nurse she had hired weeks ago had already left in addition to putting mother Valerius to bed who was sleeping peacefully, she did the same shortly after.

They just kept doing it, they couldn't get away from each other, the count adored her in his hands and Christine felt she was the owner of absolutely all, and she felt so vastly powerful under the touch of a man in the cruel winter that hit Paris every night. They were lovers.

In mid-January, he began to visit her in the opera , hardly looked not to raise glance s , he handed him a bouquet of fresh red roses then move to kiss in a corner desolate where no one would, he would take his home after that and they would say goodbye where no one would see they. In February was something different, he offered to go to his house for a moment to drink something and then take her home, Christine agreed on the condition in mind suddenly return home.

In the car they quickly arrived at one of the largest buildings in Paris, which the count owned, she had had in mind that he should be installed in a large mansion but he refuted saying that he was only one person and that it would not be necessary have a great mansion if there was no one to fill it.

When they reached the top floor, a large apartment welcomed her, it was extremely elegant but it was cozy when she found some allied books in a messy way and a large red carpet next to a fireplace that was unlit. The count picked up her coat next to his and then lit the fireplace.

"—It's quite cold here, I can bear it but I can't let my beautiful Christine do it—", he had started calling her that way and it definitely didn't bother him, it was extremely nice.

She said nothing but went to the count that lay crouched lighting the room, she hugged him from behind and it was good to have contact with the man, his body felt very warm.

After he finally lit the lighting, he gave her a little kiss on the lips and offered her a glass of wine which she gladly accepted. The count approached the kitchen that he shared with the living room and poured some wine into two glasses and then returned with her and gave her their respective glass, both of them took a seat on the large carpet, one next to the other. They took a sip of the unison.

They did not speak for a while, Christine only watched the decoration for place meanwhile she was lost in her thoughts she felt the count move by her side and go to a place, when she turned to see him He was sitting on the bench of a piano that he had barely noticed, strange of him not noticing.

He played some notes and then played Carmen's habanera on the piano, I had heard it a few times because it was not presented very often in the Garnier opera and it was not that she enjoyed it very much when it was performed by La Carlotta.

Focusing again on the count performance, it was great that she got the same feeling that the violin original caused in her. The man was extremely talented; he was overflowing with so much talent.

“—L'amour est un oiseau rebelle—”, he began to sing to the sound of music. "—Que nul ne peut apprivoiser".

“—L'amour est enfant de Bohême—”, him followed the song a little later. They both joined the unison. "—Il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi."

Si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime

Si je t'aime, prends garde à toi...

They finished the habanera with a pleasant vibe; Christine was not as voiceless as she would have thought before, after having abandoned him for so long.

After they were finished, they looked into each other's eyes and the next thing she knew she had Count Destler on her. They were kissing with their mouths open; somehow Carme's habanera had been a warm-up to turn on something in them, like a switch that had activated the passion between them.

They ended up on the carpet, the lights of the city in the window not even compared to the growing fire between them that burned them as soon as they.

The count embraced his body and got rid of the clothes that dressed him, his body no longer belonged to him, and he could do whatever he wanted to even consume her until there was nothing left of Christine Daaé. To start the soft flesh, drink their juices and blood to be part of it in most depths of his being, only until they were bones and everything would be in the count. He wanted to be part of count Erik Destler.

"—God...—", she moaned when he began to take a series of bites down the side of his neck until he reached between his legs. Christine had never had sex and although a part of her was scared she tried to simply let go, avoid concentrating on her own senses and focus on the other's pleasure.

“—Carmen, Carmen… Et les vrais plaisirs sont à deux , donc , pour me tenir compagnie—", he chanted in her ear to which Christine delighted, writhing under his grip. He spread his legs wide and bit hard on each inner thigh, his legs resting on his shoulders as the man drank their juices as if they were his source of life.

He could see beyond the stars, from the light at the end to the road, it seemed that they came together like the beat of a song that only they understood. Quickly, after treating his body with the proper roughness, with Christine herself indulging in his every whim, he pulled his cock out of its tight, cruel confinement.

"—Carmen, Carmen!—", he screamed ecstatically as he consoled itself himself in his strong grip of his left hand in her dripping dick. The uncontrollable desire to keep him inside her was almost uncontrollable, the man lying on top of her still in a messy open-mouthed kiss moaning and gasping into him.

Count turned to open her legs and entered her in a rush quickly without even waiting to get used to, the blood of the broken virginity rather than cause excruciating pain was something as simple for your body, just had focused on the cloudy pleasure it gave her.

They had locked themselves in an iron hug, her legs making a grip on his back and her hands gripping deep black hair.

Technically screaming, the pleasure was deafening.

He came very deep inside her, his hips pushed even more trying to get even deeper inside her but before anything else he fell exhausted on her, she could feel his semen running on her inner thigh without a hint of shame.

They had been in his embrace undone for a long time until the count recovered and begged her to stay by his side, but she could not do it and then he took her home, they barely said goodbye correctly even assimilating what had happened between them .

Fortunately, she hadn't gotten pregnant, but it happened more times even though they were careful now. She had become selfish and well versed when it came to sex, the count had trained her perfectly; they had become lovers who met whenever possible to unite their bodies shamelessly.

They had been in that situation for about six months.

Christine, still in her bed resting, felt the slight tingling of excitement in her dripping cunt but she had an afternoon rehearsal, so she went to shower and soon go to the Garnier opera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The opera in which I took the lines was by Carmen, mainly from the interpretation of Elina Garanca (Carmen). The songs are L'amour est un oiseau rebelle (Love is a rebellious bird) and P rès des remparts de séville (N ear the ramparts of Seville). Another thing worth noting is that Raoul not met Christine when they were kid, I keep my blue eyes boy for more later.
> 
> Forgive me for taking so long! Laziness beats me and more because this chapter is excessively long, in short, it was too much for me but I have already brought it to you. See you!


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